


Dean Winchester, King of Bullshit

by KillerLaurel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Castiel is still an angel, M/M, Weird dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerLaurel/pseuds/KillerLaurel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is just a college student, along with his brother, Sam. Sure, his friends can be pretty freaky, and sure, he's broke half the time, and a lot of students are scared of him, but relatively, his life is pretty normal. And then there are the dreams.<br/>WORK ABANDONED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry if this turns out to be shit, but it's my first Supernatural fic.

_I gave EVERYTHING for you!_ Dean woke with a start, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. The words, spoken in a low, rough voice filled with pain echoed in his ears, and the vision of blue eyes lingered in the foreground of his mind. He’d been having vague dreams of horror and sacrifice for days now, and they were only getting more fierce. But they were just dreams, just dreams because demons didn’t really exist. There were no such things as demons, no such things as angels, and Dean should probably stop eating ice cream before bed. Yeah, that had to be it. That or the Jack. Dean groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before swing his legs out of bed and going to make himself a cup of hot chocolate. Of course, if anyone asked, it was coffee. Because Dean Winchester did not drink hot chocolate when nightmares woke him up in the middle of the night. He drank coffee because he was staying up to watch Doctor Sexy MD.  
Just as Dean was sitting down to see what kind of shit was on the TV, the phone rang. Who the fuck called at two in the morning? "Who the fuck calls at two in the morning?" Dean grumbled into the phone.  
"Uh, hi, Dean?"  
"Chuck? What's up?"  
“It’s just, oh man, don’t come to classes tomorrow, in the morning, man, whatever, just don’t come into school, Dean.” Chuck sounded as nervous and jittery as usual. The man was notorious for drinking himself into unconsciousness and his general awkwardness. Chuck was an English major.  
“Yeah, sure. You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked, worried. Chuck knew things, he just knew them sometimes, and his friends had all learned to give his warnings some credit.  
“Not really, just don’t come in to uni, kay?”  
“Kay,” Dean agreed easily. The only classes he had in the morning were Stats and Fencing. Sure, Bobby would kill him for skipping fencing, but whatever, Dean needed to catch up on all the sleep he’d been missing lately before Sam started to worry. Sam had even resorted to using the bitch face when he’d caught Dean asleep in Greek Lit. Dean thought it was a stupid class anyways, no matter how much he enjoyed the mythology.  
“Cool, see ya,” Chuck hung up, sound relieved.  
Dean tossed aside his cell and settled into the smooshy couch with a giant mug of hot cocoa in his hands. He liked this mug; it said “Mine’s bigger.” on it. Clearly, it was meant for him. Sam said it was vulgar. Dean pointed out that the cup was definitely bigger than Sam’s. Sam rolled his eyes.  
Dean drank his cocoa slowly, focusing on the slight burn as it slid down his throat. He wasn’t thinking about the dream. He wasn’t thinking about the impossibly blue eyes, or the heartbreak in the deep, raspy voice, or the sensation of stubble on his cheek.  
Somehow, Dean fell asleep on the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke sometime around noon, and only because the phone next to him was ringing very annoyingly.  
“Yeah?” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hello?”  
“Hey, Dean,” came Sam’s voice. “Could you come and, uh, help me out?”  
“What happened?” Dean sighed.  
“I got in trouble for fighting.”  
“Again?”  
“That Ruby chick is a bitch, man!” Sam protested.  
“Did you hit her?”  
“Nah, she hit me.”  
“But you still got the blame, right?” Sam had a talent for getting himself into shitty situations.  
“Yeah.”  
“Be right there. Do I need to bail you out?”  
“No, they say I can go as long as you pick me up.” Being Sam’s de facto guardian could be a right pain in the ass sometimes, but at least this time they didn’t have to make bail.  
“Gimme five minutes.”  
“Kay.” Dean ended the call and went to find real pants.


	3. Dean meets Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorta. He falls through a ceiling.

It turns out, Dean really did have to bail Sam out the campus holding cell. Dean was not happy, to say the least. He glared at Sam as they got into the Impala.  
“Hey man, I’m sorry but you wouldn’t come bail me out if I told you the truth!”  
“The truth? Meaning you got caught with a bottle of prescription Oxy on you? Dude, you’ve never been into drugs before!”  
“It wasn’t mine!!” Sam protested desperately.  
“I bet you got it from that Ruby chick; she’s some sort of demon bitch, isn’t she?”  
“There’s no such thing as demons, Dean.”  
“Says the kid who got himself an airgun when he thought there were monsters in the closet.”  
“I was ten!”  
“And the drugs weren’t yours right?”  
“No! I mean yes!” Sam threw his freakishly big hands up in frustration. “They weren’t mine, Dean!”  
“Sammy, listen to me,” Dean said, serious and calm. “There is no fucking way you’re going to be a lawyer with shit like that on your record, so tell me now, were those your drugs?”  
“No, man. Ruby was trying to sell me some earlier, but I refused and I guess she slipped them in my bag to get me busted.”  
“Good,” Dean said firmly as he started the car. “Now here’s the deal, Sammy. You’re going to go down to them security buffs and fill out a formal complaint tomorrow. I’m sure a big, smart, lawyer dude like you can do that.”  
“Okay...” Sam said slowly. That sounded a lot more tame than anything Dean would normally suggest.  
“And then I’m going to tell that Ruby bitch that if she ever so much as looks at you wrong, I’ll going to send her demon bitch ass to Hell.”  
“Dean-”  
“No fucking arguing, Sammy. Nobody messes with my family and gets away clean.”  
“Fine,” Sam conceded. There was little point in arguing. Dean would just do it anyway, but Sam wouldn’t be on sight to handle the aftermath. And there was always aftermath. Like that time when they first met Chuck and he tried writing a book about them... that didn’t end very well at all. It didn’t help that Dean believed Chuck had some freaky psychic thing going on.  
“Now get to your goddamn classes and don’t call me to bail you out for at least another week,” Dean ordered as he pulled up in front of the building for Sam’s next class.   
Sam pulled a face, “Jerk.”  
“Bitch.” Sam got out and waved as he ran up the steps to the huge brick building. Dean sighed at the mess his little brother had managed to get himself into. It was the worst so far, but the frequency of the little messes worried him a tad. Not that he’d ever admit it. To anyone.  
**************  
He was just opening the door to the tiny, cheap apartment that he shared with Sam when the ceiling of the living room exploded downward, showering him with grit, plaster dust, and rubble. Dean immediately grabbed the sawed off shotgun he kept in the umbrella stand. Hey, it wasn’t a great part of town.  
He covered his mouth and nose with his shirt with one hand and aimed the gun in the general direction of the rubble with the other. “The fuck??” he muttered, his thoughts flying through his head. Dean liked to think he was reasonably smart, but he could not think of any fucking reason why something or someone would crash through his ceiling. Especially since there was two other floors above him.  
The dust settled and that was definitely a person laying on the ground, clearly unconscious. Dean made his way over the chunks of wood, insulation, and plaster and carefully set his shotgun down as he checked the man for a pulse. There was one, stronger than it should be after a fall like that. Dean wiped some of the plaster dust away from the man’s face, just as the stranger opened his eyes and pinned Dean with the sharp blue eyes that had been haunting his dreams for a week.


	4. Chapter 4

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck,” Dean cursed under his breath as he paced back and forth, ignoring the rubble crunching under his shoes, the shotgun forgotten. “FUCK!”  
“You certainly have not become any more eloquent than before,” the blue-eyed stranger coughed.  
“What the fuck is this shit? Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is going on?”  
“Still as coarse as ever, I note.”  
“What the fuck does that mean! Has the whole world gone fucking nuts? How the fuck did you fall through my fucking ceiling?”  
“Dean,” the stranger spoke in the low, gravelly voice of Dean’s dreams and he felt an involuntary shiver pass through him as he stopped pacing and really looked at the man. “This is not your life, Dean.” The way he said Dean’s voice was like a caress; not soft exactly, but with devotion. It was terrifying.  
“Who... are you?” Dean managed to get out, choking up with the disbelief.  
“My name is Castiel.”  
Castiel. Castiel. Castiel. Castiel.  
“Well, Cas, if this isn’t my life, what is?” Dean asked, even though he didn’t believe a word of what Cas- Castiel, he corrected himself- was saying. Really, he didn’t, disturbing dreams be damned. Strange feelings be damned.  
Because Dean, who was apparently emotionally constipated, was trying very hard not to pay attention to the weird, fluttering, warm, crawling feeling moving through his gut as those damnably blue eyes stared at him relentlessly.  
“You are D, vampire hunter.” Dean stared at him.  
“Come again?”  
Cas rolled his eyes. “You hunt vampires,” he said slowly, enunciating each word carefully. “This. Is. A. Dream.” Dean just stared, his mouth open a little and his eyes wide. Castiel stared into his eyes without blinking. Dean was pretty sure that should be disturbing, but it wasn’t; it was comfortable.  
“And that makes you what?” Dean asked angrily. “When did my life become Inception?!”  
“I’m an angel,” Cas informed him, unrelenting.  
“If you’re an angel where are your wings?”  
“Hidden. I am a warrior of God; seeing my true form would burn your eyes from your skull.”  
“Oh, right,” Dean snarked before flopping onto the couch. It was covered in ceiling remnants and he had an angel staring at him like he was naked and telling him this was all a dream. Great day, wonderful. “Hey, my friend Chuck is kinda psychic-”  
“I know.”  
“So he really is?”  
“He is a prophet. He sees all the possibilities of the future.”  
“Why’d he tell me not to go to school today?”  
“Your emotional state was in flux when you found out about Sam. It allowed me to break through the dream shell to reach you in your own mind.”  
“So if I hadn’t gone-”  
“I wouldn’t be here.”  
“Wonderful.”  
“How is that wonderful?” Cas did the head-tilting thing again and Dean just really wanted to grab his shoulders and kiss him- no, shake him, he wanted to shake the unreadable look right of his beauti- weird, angel face. Dean face-palmed. What the fuck was wrong with him?  
“Sarcasm, Cas,” he pointed out and a tiny, almost-smile made it’s way onto the angel’s lips. Like this was familiar to him, like he’d only wanted Dean to respond. “So,” Dean cleared his throat and tried to be tough. “If this is a dream, what’s the real world like?”  
“Similar. But different.” Dean scowled at Cas, who still had that little smirk on.  
“How do I get out?”  
“You make a choice.”  
“You’re being very unhelpful.”  
“You have to WANT to leave the dream, Dean. You don’t want to right now.”  
“Then I think you’ll be waiting for a while, ‘cause I’m really liking it here.”  
“Even with the roof caved in?” Dean glared at him.  
“I’m not going anywhere any time soon.” His phone rang. He answered after shooting a be-quiet-or-I-will-end-you glare. “Hello?”  
“Dean Winchester?” the woman sounded like she was reading off a card.  
“Yes?”  
“I’m sorry to inform you that there was a shooting on your younger brother’s campus today-”  
“No.” Dean refused to believe it.  
“I’m sorry but your brother was shot. The medics didn’t get to him in time.” Dean threw the phone against the wall. It didn’t break but he didn’t have the heart to try again.  
“Hey, Cas?”  
“Yes?” the angel asked softly.  
“Is my Sammy alive in the real world?”  
“He is.”  
“Take me there.” Cas cocked his head, studying Dean. “I don’t even care if it’s the fucking Apocalypse.”  
“Very well.” Castiel moved so he knelt in front of his human and placed both rough, gentle, knowledgeable hands on Dean’s cheeks. “This is going to hurt,” he said. And he kissed Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that escalated quickly


End file.
